The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 326: Catalina State Park/Post H

The storm doesn't really matter until it gets you down.

As for the mundane, we moved for the third of four times to our new camp site (A23). It's like all chores, necessary and quite easy, and all about the attitude. In trailer life, it means unhooking the power cord, the water line, raising the stabilizing feet, backing the truck to the hitch, hitching up, and pulling out. There's really nothing much to it. Each time we move, we stop at the pump out to empty tanks. Then we drive to the new site, check for level on the trailer, disengage the hitch, rehook the power, the water, and drop the stabilizing feet. For anyone who thinks RV life is arduous, think again. They've made it so easy, monkeys can do it. Moving four times allowed us to stay the maximum amount of time at Catalina, which is well worth it. This state park is a gem, and it's so popular, it's been at full capacity for our entire visit. This morning, before we moved, we hiked about three miles along the bridle trail, which links up to the famous fifty year trail, a longish trek into the desert. In our time here, we'll venture at least part way out into the desert. That is if the Lord stops weeping all over the desert. We're supposed to feel the brunt of another one-two punch of winter storms this weekend. As a precaution, the park rangers have distributed a flood warning for the next few days. Time will tell. Speaking of which, and speaking of the monumental, this is the eve of Donald Trump's inauguration. My present take is "Hope for the best, plan for the worst." My prediction is that he'll fall short of inspiring a united America. Instead, I predict he will gloat about his win, take a few back handed swipes at his critics, and rattle off a list of vague but outlandish promises. Time will tell. On this the eve of the inauguration, I've decided to concentrate on Hope. A great America (By my definition of great) would be a beacon of freedom, a bastion of self-reliance, and a refuge for the tired and weary (Just like it says on the statue). I hope we can maintain our integrity. I want my children to believe in the American dream I've enjoyed. I want my grandchildren to grow and live confident that anything they can hope for they can achieve. I did, and I do. My immigrant grandparents, late comers as they were (1907), taught us that hard work, strong faith, and belief in the "right way" would carry us anywhere we wanted to go. My grandfather had less than a sixth grade education, my mother didn't graduate from high school, my father just did, and I became the first in my family to finish college. I then got lucky enough to spend thirty-one years teaching youth the same things my grandparents taught me. I hope that those truths don't disappear. My fear is that they will. I predict that every designated Trump appointee will sail through the confirmation hearings. For that to happen, many men and women will have to compromise ethical norms and rationalize for themselves into some greater good. Having said that, I hope the rest of us remain vigilant. I believe it does matter how you win, so in this current win at all costs atmosphere, I hope there will be those of us who believe fair play, honest dealing, and human compassion are still worth fighting for. We need to be vigilant, but righteous. "For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his soul." (Matthew 16:26; Mark 8:36; Luke 9:25) In the end, my fervent hope is that America's soul remains intact because if that happens I can live in the knowledge that life is good, especially today. [P.S. God hasn't made me privy to His plans, but I do believe His truth is righteous.]